Wanderer Above the Sea of Mist
by Therightshadeofblue
Summary: The Orion were a race of warriors created by the Elves to rid Middle Earth of the deadly plague of the Orc. After a deadly massacre Mikal is the last living Orion and wants nothing more than to cultivate her quiet life and have tea with her dear friend Bilbo Baggins. When a troupe of adventurous Dwarves find their way into the Shire-Mikal cannot ignore the call for adventure.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

* * *

There was a riddle Mikal knew. She remembered it as one of her earliest memories.

_"I start in the beginning, at the end."_

Mikal hated this riddle because it wasn't really a riddle at all. It was just an absurd statement and no matter how much she thought on it, she could never figure out the answer to the damned thing. If it even had an answer.

It was the thought of this damn riddle which plagued her mind now, after a fierce midnight battle against a hoard of Orcs just outside Rohan. Or what she thought were Orcs. Separated from her trusty horse, Willow, she stumbled through the forest on foot, her body in searing pain with every step. But she forged forward with all her might.

At age three thousand, five hundred, and twenty five Mikal realized she knew one thing for certain and it was that she knew very little. She had seen battle, hardship, and pain like any warrior of these times. But she had loved and lost as well, experiences that made her an outlier within her race.

Her kind had been made not to love, but to fight. Her purpose in this world was manufactured. Yet, like most rebels in their own stories, Mikal well—rebelled. Though it wasn't for lack of obedience. Mikal had served her purpose for many years, when the hardships came she took them in brilliant stride.

Mikal abruptly cried out in pain, clutching her side. Blood spilled out from between her fingers at an alarming rate. The trident, which was imbedded deep within her stomach felt like a weight of a thousand pounds that dragged her further and further down with each laborious step.

Mikal had lived for three thousand, five hundred, and twenty five years but felt she'd barely reached quarter age. The moment the Orc trident was broken off in her stomach, a pain she'd only felt once before, she knew.

She knew her life couldn't be over now, it had barely started.

The wood of Rohan was thick and offered ample coverage when hunting, but a pure nuisance when trying to navigate whilst bleeding out. Mikal paused at a large oak tree to breathe. Tears stained through the black ash on her face and a small stream of blood trailed down her chin from her mouth. Bruises formed around her jaws and under her eyes. Every expression of pain, every wince, brought more agony.

"Come on." She knocked her head against the tree, boiling up the strength within her to go. "Come on, Kal, this can't be it. Not after all this time."

Another stifled cry echoed from her throat as she felt the poison from the metal force its way into her blood stream. Pushing off the tree slowly she held her side again and limped through the pain. Each step rocketed a burning pain from her stomach to the ends of her fingers, toes, and head. Burning, almost white pain.

The kind of pain that seemed cold, but was so hot it would burn you with its charade.

"Almost there." She said to herself, even though she really had no idea how far or close Rohan was, she only knew if she walked in the direction of the morning sun, she would make it.

The whistle of the wind through the trees became suddenly fierce and pushed her along, aiding her dying body.

_The spirits_, she thought, _are on my side this morning._

Through the tears in her eyes she could faintly see the bright sunlit opening of the forest into the fields surrounding Aldburg.

Almost there.

She pushed further and further until the pain nearly blinded her. Though that could perhaps have been the poison which now burned through her veins like wildfire, eating away at her soul, burning from within. Like a thousand tiny insects were in her veins eating, eating, eating away.

_Damn this, _she thought, _damn this I cannot give up._

The palpitating echo of hooves on dry grass and dirt called her forward and she heard yelling.

"Mikal!" A man yelled after she had passed the barrier of the wood. She saw the man, riding full speed toward her. Still she limped closer, though she did not know who it was. The delirium was setting in fully now. Her feet grew numb and her eyeliner began to tunnel.

The rider skittered to a stop, hopped off the horse, and caught her as her legs gave out. She was covered in blood and it stained the rider's armor with permanence.

"Mikal, can you hear me?" She breathed out and nodded. "What happened?"

"Orcs…but not Orcs…something else." The man looked at the wound on her side and quickly picked her up and rode back into Aldburg, clutching her tightly. It was not until she had the strength to look up at him that she realized who it was. "Eomer?"

She reached up to touch his chest, to make certain this was real and not her mind melting away from poison. But he was very much real, and very much solid.

A few short minutes of the ride, bumpy and wild, was the last thing she remembered before the hot burning from the pain and the poison had enveloped her completely.

* * *

**Hello beautiful beings! This is my first foray into the illustrious Lord of the Rings/Hobbit fanfiction world and I couldn't be more excited, albeit a tad intimidated. But nonetheless I've found inspiration and damnit I will see it to fruition whether it makes sense or not! This story will follow the timeline of the Hobbit and LotR through the perspective of my OC, Mikal. I am still deciding on whether to publish the story linearly or jump back and forth between time. But I wanted to get this little bit out there just to get my foot in the door. And either way, please let me know your thoughts on this glimpse into the story!**


	2. Chapter 1

**Some sixty years earlier. **

Mikal stood at her stove stirring a tomato sauce in a shallow pan. She hummed to herself a song an old friend of hers used to sing. The candles that lit the kitchen were low, giving the room a dull golden aura. She wistfully sighed imagining being somewhere else, anywhere—for just a bit of excitement.

Though her life did have its share of excitements; finding a new wild flower in her gardens, eavesdropping on the local gossip from passing Hobbits, children playing and learning and spying on her through her windows—she was after all, the resident non-Hobbit who was "as mysterious as a wizard." Though in the end she loved this little life she had now—this life which she spent so much time and energy curating and making completely different to which the life she grew up knowing.

As she ate Mikal thought of her life before she ended up in Bag-End, in the Shire—in a world of Hobbits and endless suppers. Which she often thought of, nearly everyday. But everyday her outlook on her past would change, thus her outlook on life and her future were informed by these moments of meditation. She had nothing but this beautiful place to thank.

Mikal was hesitant to confront the bad parts of her past, and was grateful that there was no one in her life now to force them out of her. She had friends surely, but the tales of her past would probably put even the bravest of Hobbits on bed-rest for three days.

So she kept to herself. When her mind needed a distraction she usually found comfort in her dear friend Bilbo Baggins, with whom she lived next door.

Her timer suddenly tinged just as she finished her dinner.

"Damnit." She sighed. She had forgotten about the parsnips she'd roasted the whole evening. Then an idea struck her as she pulled the steaming tray out of the oven.

Mikal knew exactly who would enjoy these.

* * *

"You're going on a quest?" Bilbo interjected.

"Bilbo," Gandalf sighed, "my dear fellow, let us have a little more light." Bilbo nodded at the old wizard's request and scurried away for a candle. When he returned he caught the last little bit of Gandalf's introduction, "…lies a single solitary peak."

Then, suddenly, a knock at the door. The Hobbit sighed almost immediately, expecting yet another Dwarf. How could there still be more Dwarves?

"Expecting company, Bilbo?" Gandalf asked quietly. Bilbo looked at him with a confused expression.

"No…No, I'm rather at capacity for the moment."

Another knock followed by a feminine voice. _"Bilbo! It's me!" _

Then the Hobbit sighed, resting his head in his hands, as a chorus of whispers spread through the Dwarves.

_"I've got some leftover cherry glazed parsnips from supper—I know they're your favorite!" _The voice was gentle and happy sounding. A few of the company perked up at the mention of more food while Thorin narrowed his gaze to Bilbo.

"Oh those parsnips are good." Bilbo muttered. The company and Gandalf looked at him expectantly. "That's Kal, my neighbor. She cannot know I have company."

"And why is that?" Thorin inserted himself in the conversation.

"Because she'll want to get involved and I'm assuming you don't want that, right?" Bilbo looked up at Thorin who nodded slowly.

"Aye." Thorin nodded. He followed Bilbo to the door. Thorin shifted to stand off to the side, out of sight, with one hand perched on the hilt of his sword.

The woman knocked again before Bilbo opened the big, round door just a smidge big enough to see his smiling neighbor.

"Bilbo, what took you so long? This plate's nearly burned my arm off." She tried to step inside but the Hobbit pushed the door further. He reached out for the plate.

"Tha—thank you for the parsnips, Kal."

"What's wrong, Bilbo?" Her voice dropped nearly a whole octave and Thorin narrowed his eyes, ready for anything.

"Nothing! Nothing, nothing—just a bit under some sort of weather."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Would you like me to make you some tea?"

"No, I'll be fine, nice bath and off to bed for me. Thank—thank you, Kal!" Bilbo slammed the door shut and looked at Thorin. He nodded to Bilbo and they both started back toward the kitchen.

Suddenly the door swung open, a crack of the metal lock clanged as it hit the floor. The woman stepped in with purpose.

"I know when you're lying to me, Bilbo Baggins. You stutter and make no sense at all." She walked up to to her secretive neighbor but her eyes quickly caught on to Thorin, arising a faint glimmer of animosity and suspicion directed both ways. "Who are you?"

Thorin looked at Bilbo as if to ask if she was one to trust. Bilbo, all but hesitantly, nodded in affirmation.

"Thorin Oakenshield. And you are?" She eyed the Dwarf still—the two were nearly at eye level, though Thorin had perhaps one half inch on her. She was silent. He was rather tall for a Dwarf, she thought, but a Dwarf he was unmistakably. Mikal stood before him with an air of confidence hefty enough to fill the entire house which they stood. Not for intimidation, not really, mostly that was just the way she was.

"This is my neighbor, Kal." Bilbo interjected, yet again. But neither paid mind to the little thing.

"You are not a Hobbit." He spoke with assurance. She looked human, if a little elf-like in her movements and long, thick black hair.

"Excellent observation. What business do you have here, Thorin Oakenshield—in the home of my dear friend, Bilbo, whom I'm afraid has never mentioned anything regarding a friendship with a dwarf in my ten years of knowing him?"

"Is that a familiar voice I hear?" The old wizard's voice echoed in the Hobbit halls as he clumsily made his way into the foyer. The woman had to tear her eyes from Thorin to Gandalf. But when she did a shocked but delighted smile hit her lips.

"Gandalf? Gandalf the Grey?" She questioned, but she knew.

He laughed, "Indeed it is I. It's been far too long, little Mikal."

Mikal smiled, "Far, far too long, old friend."

"How's the arm treating you?"

"Oh there are good days and bad ones too."

"Oh, that's to be expected—injury like that—how long have you been living in the Shire?"

"Nearly ten years now. It's a good, quiet place—"

She was interrupted by the Dwarf beside them as he cleared his throat.

"Gandalf." He insisted and the wizard nodded.

"Oh yes, right. Mikal, are you hungry?"

Mikal chose to ignore Bilbo's sigh, "I've eaten already but I wouldn't say no to a nice evening tea."

* * *

Mikal listened intently to the conversation between the Dwarves and Gandalf. She had heard of their plight before, being just in Bree when the event occurred some many, many years ago. Deep sorrow was written on the faces of the last surviving warriors of Erebor, Mikal could feel the pain inside her as they spoke—for she, too, knew the pain of loss.

The conversation turned to Bilbo, and their reason for being here in the Shire. He was chosen by Gandalf to be their burglar, for Hobbits were small and not as distinctive as a Dwarf to the salacious Smaug that controlled the mountain.

Mikal smirked, watching her dear friend's face turn from confusion to worry in minuscule seconds. He was tossed a contract which he took into the light of the hall to read.

"Oh, oh, I feel a…a bit faint." Mikal knew the face a certain Hobbit would make right before he fainted. Quickly she hopped from her chair and caught Bilbo before he crashed to the floor.

After a few moments she was able to awaken Bilbo.

"Are you sure you're alright?" She asked, checking his eyes after she and Gandalf had brought him into his bedroom.

"I'll be fine, Kal. Thank you for the tea. Just let me sit quietly for a moment." Mikal nodded slowly, still uncertain. At the door she turned to see Gandalf watching her with a careful eye. When he noticed her he gave her the gentlest of winks. Something was running through the wizard's mind at alarming speeds, she could tell.

Nevertheless, she walked out of the room to reserve them a bit of privacy. In the kitchen Mikal heated a pot of water for tea.

She chuckled to herself looking around Bilbo's empty kitchen. The Dwarves really did a number on him. If Bilbo does go on this adventure, she'll be sure to restock his pantry to the brim before he returns.

While the kettle boiled over the fire Mikal could sense the eyes of someone on her. She looked over her shoulder to see Thorin, the Dwarf that proved to be the leader of this troupe—shamelessly staring at her, as he stood off in the hallway in the contrasted darkness. At her glance in his direction his gaze was unmoving, it seemed as though he did not care whether she knew he was watching her or not.

It wasn't quite a distrusting or suspicious gaze, but a curious one—pensive and thoughtful. It had been some time since Mikal had looked back at someone so openly. In that moment she wondered what he thought of her. She knew his opinion was held to high regard, what did he possibly discern from her?

Feeling a bit overwhelmed she returned her gaze to the stove, breaking off whatever connection their eyes had bound.

Then, a rather large Dwarf with firey red hair appeared at her side.

"'S'cuse me, miss—would ya happen to have a spare bit of hot water left?"

Mikal smiled and nodded, "Of course." She poured into his cup first before her own as he struck up conversation about tea and honey. Thorin was no longer watching her, he had been pulled off to the hall by the wise looking dwarf with a big white beard.

Politely, she excused herself from the bulbous Dwarf and skirted around the entrance of the hall, listening to the quiet conversation.

Bilbo had officially refused the adventure. Mikal sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Dumb Hobbit." She muttered, but continued to listen.

The Dwarves, they had a life now—the shorter one spoke to Thorin. Almost as though a plea to forget this dream, this adventure in favor for the comfortable lives they had currently in the Blue Mountains. Yet Thorin was adamant, he felt it necessary to do what was right by his people and his family.

Mikal felt a pang in her heart then, the honesty of his voice bellowed deep in her stomach. If anything, she was on their side—with a headstrong leader like Thorin.

But soon after that the Dwarves had left and Mikal herself went back home down the road to rest for the evening.

That night she found it incredibly difficult to fall asleep with thoughts of the Dwarves' song in her mind, the humming that echoed inside her head like a cavernous canyon.

She tossed and turned but couldn't get comfortable.

Most nights she struggled to sleep, so it was no different crawling out from under the covers as the sun was just barely peaking above the horizon. But this time, she felt different—she felt…energized and filled with purpose.

She walked back to Bilbo's and noticed the door was ajar, the lock she had broken prevented the door from fully closing. Another thing on her list to do when he left for his adventure.

Because, yes, Mikal went back to Bilbo's the following morning to make him breakfast and convince him that he should accept the adventure—as he'll never get a chance quite like this again.

It was another hour before Bilbo woke up. He nearly jumped out of his skin seeing her in his kitchen but settled when he saw a full spread of pancakes, bacon, eggs, and coffee on the table.

"Oh Kal, thank you so much—you have no idea the night I've just had."

Mikal smirked, "Bilbo, I was there last night—or do you not remember?"

The Hobbit poured syrup on his pancakes as he sighed, "Oh yes, I do recall."

"A frightful evening for you, I'm sure." She chuckled and started eating. The two were silent before Bilbo sighed, pausing.

"You think I'm making a mistake, don't you?"

Mid-sip Mikal nodded plainly, "Biggest mistake of your little life, my dear friend."

Bilbo looked from her, to the contract folded up at the end of the table. She insisted the wise dwarf, Balin, leave it with the hope that she might be able to convince him yet.

"I just…I can't, Kal." Bilbo insisted, tire on his voice.

"And why not?"

"I am happy—I am happy here in my home. Where I am safe and warm and can make dinner—" Bilbo paused for a moment and looked around this empty kitchen, "After I go to the market…"

Mikal smirked, "That may be so, Bilbo, but aren't just a tad bit curious?"

"Curious about what? Curious about what terrors await someone like me out there where—"

"Bilbo." Mikal narrowed her eyes at him, "For the entire ten years I've known you you've never once set foot out of the Shire. Middle Earth is a beautiful place that you should see!"

Bilbo nodded, "See with the risk of being killed!"

"So what! At least you can die knowing that you were true to yourself and took every chance you got to explore the world. How many Hobbits can say they've done that?" Mikal urged, feeling like she was brimming close on convincing him.

"We can't all be as adventurous as you, Kal. I don't have the skills to protect myself. I just can't do it."

"That's no excuse, Mister Baggins." She pointed her fork at him.

"Yes it is. It's a very good excuse."

Mikal rolled her eyes. "Then it is a sad one, at best."

"I can live with my sad excuses." Bilbo said with finality.

Mikal set her fork down and looked at him. "Okay. Whatever you wish, Bilbo." She stood, set her plate in the sink to wash.

"Why don't you go?" She heard quietly behind her.

"Because I wasn't the one asked." She stated simply as she washed her plate off.

"Would you have gone, if they had asked?"

Mikal glanced at Bilbo behind her and saw he had turned to face her, gaging her reaction. "Had I been asked by a troupe of thirteen Dwarves and Gandalf the Grey himself to join them on a quest through Middle Earth because they needed me…" She paused and grabbed her bag, "Then of course I would. No question."

Mikal twisted to leave the kitchen. Bilbo dashed quickly, grabbing the contract and called out before she reached the front door.

"Then you should come." Mikal paused at the door and turned to him, eyeing the contract.

"What?"

"If—if you come then—" Bilbo got a small smirk on his face, "Then I'll come. But that's the only way I go."

Mikal looked between the stubborn Hobbit and the contract in his hands, then a smile grew softly on her face.


	3. Chapter 2

For as long as Mikal could remember she could communicate with horses. It was not straight talking back and worth, more of an intuition and interpretation of movements—but an unspoken type of conversation.

Mikal had been in the ownership of a beautiful full black stallion called Mayne for about five years now. He was a lovely companion, who enjoyed bushels of green apples, long strokes to his coat, and tales of great triumph and battle.

Mayne was a horse who, while he loved Mikal and the slow pace of the Shire, longed to be out in the world.

When Mikal walked into the stables that early morning, it took all of three seconds for the horse to sense her excitement.

Mikal laughed as Mayne kept bumping his nose into her shoulder as she was getting his saddle ready to ride.

"We're going away for a while, Mayne." He breathed out heavily and shook his head. "I'm not sure for how long, but it's bound to be an adventure."

Mikal laughed at Mayne who hoped up, brandishing his two from hooves and clamped them down happily, and heavily, in the hay.

She brushed him softly, to settle his anxious nerves.

"The company is led by someone I've never met before." Mayne grunted, "No, I don't sense a lot of bad in him actually. Just…determination."

When she was finished brushing his coat she buckled in the saddle and hopped up on him. Mayne quickly spun around, rising a laugh out of Mikal.

"I can't tell which one of us is more excited." Mayne walked out of the small stable and trotted around the small field behind Mikal's home. "Alright, they said they were heading West—let's go find them."

With that Mayne was off.

Mikal quickly remembered her favorite feeling right then. The feeling of the wind in her hair.

* * *

"Wait! Wait!" Bilbo called wildly behind the line of horses, waving the contract in his hand. They all stopped as the young Hobbit scampered up to them. "I signed it."

Bilbo handed the contract to Balin who brought out his magnifying glass to examine the document.

"Everything seems to be in order, except—what's this other signature?" He narrowed his eyes at Bilbo who glanced at Gandalf. The wizard in turn grew a mischievous smirk.

"That is my one—my one caveat." Heavy hoof claps approaching the dwarves and brought their attention to the woman they'd all met the previous night. Mikal who rode up on her pure black horse. A grey, gauzy cloak wrapped around her body, a bow around her torso and a quiver on her horse's side. She slowed as she passed Bilbo to Gandalf and Thorin.

Mayne, still delighted to be out and about, shuffled nervously as she tried to settle him.

"I'm not going without Kal." The Hobbit said with wavering confidence under Thorin's dark gaze.

Mikal tilted a nodded to Gandalf who in turn looked to Thorin for his reaction. The Dwarf king looked uncertain as he looked at her, eying her weapons and general presence.

"She can only help, Thorin." Gandalf said.

"And you can vouch for her and her skills?" Thorin asked. Mikal felt a nervousness well up inside her. The delight, a bright and fuzzy anticipation she hadn't felt in years. At this point she didn't care whether he said yes or not, she was leaving the Shire. Mayne was far too excited and hopeful to voluntarily turn back now.

"Upon my life I could chose no other companion that is more brave or skillful than that of Mikal for a journey of this caliber." Gandalf said with so much sincere earnest Mikal felt a sweet pride swell inside her. And in that moment she almost wondered if this had been the wizard's plan all along.

"You can fight?" Thorin questioned her. She nodded, a small hilt of her old self burned into her mind. She could prove herself a hundred times over if she needed. "Weapon of choice."

"Bow, if I can chose. If I haven't the choice I'm well trained with a sword, axe, and spear. Useful with hand to hand combat as well." Mayne rustled under her, twisting around quickly—he sensed her excitement, the remembrance of her old self, and could hardly contain it himself.

"That horse of yours, will he be trouble?"

"He's just excited, we haven't been out of the Shire in a long while." She excused Mayne's behavior, knowing that if she tried to explain the connection between her and her trusty steed, they'd all be confused.

Thorin gazed at her for a moment, then at Bilbo, and finally at Gandalf. He watched Mikal control the horse with apt skill, exhibiting practiced communication, quieting his excited stomps. But Balin immediately interjected.

"Thorin, the Wilds are no place for a woman."

Mikal smiled at Balin softly, her horse pacing near him. "Well you're in luck then, for I am no woman."

The company shared confused murmurs as she directed her attention back to the two up front.

"Thorin, I believe we are running behind schedule as is." The wizard spoke and Thorin nodded.

"Alright, you may join. Get the Hobbit a pony!" Mikal nodded at him and steered her horse back to join Bilbo and his newly acquired pony.

"Alright, Master Baggins—Madame Mikal, welcome to the company of Thorin Oakenshield."

Mikal smiled at Bilbo's discomfort, her excitement still thrilling her mile-wide smile.

"Oh stop looking so pleased with yourself." Bilbo shouted her way and she laughed. Thorin glanced back at her, with her dancing horse prancing circles around her small friend.

He turned back and made eye contact with Gandalf.

"You won't regret this decision, Thorin."

"I better not." He grumbled.

Gandalf made his way back to Mikal and Bilbo. She laughed as the dwarves tossed around coins. They had all taken bets on whether the Hobbit would join.

* * *

**Sorry this is a short one! But please let me know what you think!**


	4. Chapter 3

**Some nine hundred years ago.**

Mikal stood in front of a tall mirror and sighed. She toyed with the ends of her hair which held, in its natural form, some gentle waves that refused to straighten. It had taken her just a few short minutes to pull back the strands that usually framed her face, braided them and pinned them to the back of her head.

In battle she would braid multiple small strands at the tops of her ears and her temples, pull her thick hair back out of her face to tie it all up at the back of her head.

Two different hairstyles, for two very different battles. And today her body armor was an indigo dyed linen dress with gold detailing around the collar. Her arms were fitted with wrist bands that mimicked the cuffs she wore to protect her arms. They both bore the symbol of the Orion; three diagonal lines spaced equally apart with a red circle connecting them at the center.

If Mikal ever dreamed, she dreamt of this symbol.

A knock at her door rose her attention from the mirror.

"Lady Mikal, it's time." Himiena, the Elf in charge of her that evening in Mirkwood, was young and very thin with brown hair, with dazzling green eyes and a gentle cadence to her voice.

A tremor shook through Mikal's hand at her words but she quickly grabbed it with the other and calmed herself. Mikal nodded and followed Himiena down the hall.

"Are you nervous?" The Elf asked. Mikal shook her head, though she wanted to smile at the young Elf's curiosity.

"Only reasonably so. I've been waiting for this for a long time."

"I'd be a wreck, probably drunk and half passed out by now." Mikal hid her smirk under palm and cleared her throat. "Though it makes sense. You know I always thought the whole no emotion thing was just exaggeration to make the Orion seem without weakness. But upon meeting you and a few others from your regiment, I've found it to be true…Oh how I wish to not have emotion…"

Mikal watched as the Elf grew wistful as her words trailed off. Mikal wanted so badly to tell her that the whole emotion thing was played up, but more often than not she noticed her lack of emotion unwavering in response to harrowing events. The only emotion of hers she relished in was her humor, and laughing.

Mikal loved to laugh; an act which, within the military of the Orion, was the only expressive emotion frowned upon. So she would hide it. And in a sense that made smiling and laughter all the better.

"Here we are." Himiena smiled a bright and white smile and opened the door to the grand hall of Mirkwood.

There were hundreds of Elves and Orion seated facing the throne of King Oropher and his company. It reminded Mikal of a wedding, for Mirkwood was beautiful and light seemed to beam down through the trees right when it was needed.

Himiena led Mikal down the aisle and slowed when they approached the King.

"Lady Mikal Eyre of Othriel?" Mikal nodded at the King's deep voice that filled every crevice of the hall. "You may kneel."

Mikal slowly moved in her dress and assumed the position, resting one knee on the stone ground and looked back up to the King.

_He really is quite beautiful_, she thought to herself for a brief moment as he began talking to the crowd.

"It is a pleasure to be here today to conscript the few chosen of the Orion for promotion and rank within all four regiments stationed in our World. And an even greater pleasure to begin this ceremony with the fiercest, most elegant warrior I've had the pleasure to bear witness. As well as one of the greatest leaders her regiment in the East as ever seen." King Oropher stepped down and approached Mikal. He leaned down at his hip and gently grazed her forehead with his fingertips. Mikal closed her eyes and bent her head in bow. "As King Oropher of the Silvan Elves of Mirkwood I now indoctrinate Mikal Eyre as Grand Marshal of the Greater Orion regiment of the North, the South, the East, and the West."

Mikal's head shot up and she looked him in the eye. She had anticipated—no, she had been told she was to move up a single rank to mere Captain, certainly not…

King Oropher looked into her eyes and nodded slowly, as though he had been reading her thoughts. He placed two hands on her shoulders, a soft blue light emanated from his palms. The room was silent for just a moment before the crowd burst into applause.

Mikal could feel her heartbeat in her throat. But this was no time for panic.

"Grand Marshal Mikal Eyre, it is an honor." Oropher held out his hand and he helped her stand. She struggled to look from his eyes as another Elf ushered her to stand to the side next to a tall man in all grey.

The next warriors came in for the rank promotions but Mikal could hardly focus. She now had one hundred times the responsibility she was expecting, could she even do it? What did Oropher see in her that she did not see in herself?

Then King Oropher's voice boomed in the hall, "Now, our guest the great Wizard Gandalf the Grey has the honor of awarding our warriors with their rank metals. Gandalf?"

The tall man in grey next to Mikal grunted and walked over to the King. Slowly, ceremoniously, the wizard picked up the first metal to be pinned. Then the second, and the third.

When they got to the Orion next to Mikal, a troublesome warrior she knew by the name of Galin, she noticed the Wizard seemed to be rushing. He picked up the pin and promptly pinned it to Galin's lapel—but went in a little too far and pricked his chest.

Galin winced and Mikal tried her hardest to hide her smirk, but the laugh exhausted a breath in her stomach and exited her nose. Gandalf looked at her with a leering, and knowing smirk.

"Sorry, young lad."

"'Tis alright, Gandalf." Galin nodded at the Wizard. Then he moved to Mikal.

The Wizard was tall so she had to look up at him, just as he had to bend over to get a good look at her face.

"I can see now why Oropher sees so much in you." Gandalf said under his breath. Then spoke loudly as he placed her medal around her neck—no pin in sight. "Congratulations, Lady Mikal Eyre. I know you will do great things."

Gandalf winked at her and oddly, Mikal felt calm. The crowd cheered and that evening the halls was full of food, stories, and laughter—apart from her.

The entire evening and into the next morning, all Mikal could do was look at her medal and wonder of the horrors that await her in battle.

* * *

**Present.**

They rode for hours and hours, though the morning and into the evening. Mayne picked at bushes every now and then and Mikal would softly pat his head when he got restless.

Mayne did his best to communicate what Mikal interpreted as 'you seem just as restless.'

"I know, Mayne. Just a bit anxious is all." She whispered into the horses ear, garnering a side glance from one of the Dwarves. After a little while longer, stuck in her old thoughts, she spotted Gandalf and the leader, Thorin glance back at her every now and then. She wondered what they could be talking about.

Another hour passed and Mayne had made it back to step in sync with Gandalf's horse.

"Gandalf?" She asked.

"Yes, dear?" He asked, as though she had pulled him from an intense reverie.

"Did you know I was in the Shire?"

"No, of course not." The wizard answered with an avoided gaze. "Never in my wildest of ideas would I ever had imagined you ending up in a place like the Shire. However when I think about it, the Shire seems perfect for you." She narrowed her eyes.

"And that's the truth?"

"Mmhmm." He grunted.

"And what about afterward then, did you know I would come?"

"I had an inkling of a hope…for the idea…you would consider." He rambled and Mikal rolled her eyes. "But you are here now and that's all that matters."

"Mmhmm…" She mimicked his grunt and eyed him. "I'm not going to pretend I understand your ways, Gandalf. I just hope that this isn't some elaborate plan to get me back out there."

"Out where?" He feigned confusion. Mikal glanced around, comfortable that none of the other riders in their company were eavesdropping.

"You know very well what I mean, Gandalf, and I'll have none of it. I'm here in support of Bilbo, because I know you need him. That is all."

"Is that really the truth Mikal? You may be retired from your past but you cannot convince me that it has stayed there."

Mikal looked at Gandalf, smoking his pipe and gazing off into the spilling hills. She had known the wizard for longer than she could really remember and she owed him more than she would like to admit. He was far wiser than her, and she trusted that he knew what he was doing.

In that same thought though, she trusted he would keep her wishes in mind when inserting her in a situation like this. She did not want to fight, or battle, or become anything more than what she had worked to become the last seven hundred years. A quiet homebody. Yes she did feel the call of adventure, but that's all it was—an adventure. No other commitment than that.

She would help the Dwarves in their journey to Erebor and then return to the Shire with her good friend, Bilbo, when everything was all said and done. Just a brief intermission, between her otherwise quiet and normal life she had worked so hard to accomplish.

The troupe had stopped in an alcove to eat and rest for the evening. As the sun set and the night quieted into darkness, Mikal wondered around the area to gain the best vantage of the moon-lit landscape. Away from the chaos of Dwarves during dinner time.

Her mind was quiet as she relaxed against a tree, not so much as a twig breaking could bring her out of her state. She watched from afar as Bilbo quietly fed his pony, Myrtle, an apple he'd saved from dinner and smiled.

Suddenly an echoing screech pierced her mind and she immediately sat up. Her hand moved to the knife at her side. Then she waited, breath held. The screeching continued.

Not a twig could bring her from her thoughts, but the sound of an Orc, well…that did the job.

Quickly she stood and walked back to the others.

"What was that?" She heard Bilbo ask.

"Orcs," replied Kili, sitting up right and listening.

"Orcs?" Bilbo cried, unbelieving. Mikal stepped purposefully passed Gandalf who stared her down.

"Not a word, Gandalf." She muttered through her teeth and placed herself next to the fire. The tremor in her hand was noticed by Kili and Fili.

Thorin jumped awake at the mention of the creatures and peered around.

"Throat-cutters. There'll be dozens of them out there. The low lands are crawling with them." Fili said dramatically.

"They strike in the wee small hours when everyone is asleep." Kili said and Mikal stood again in frustration, walking back passed Gandalf. Kili and his brother shared a snicker at Bilbo's horror.

Mikal knew there'd be Orcs out here, of course there were—how could there not be? Disgusting, horrific, vile creatures who served no purpose but to kill and rule through mindless violence and stupidity. Traipsing through the low lands without anyone to keep them in order.

Her abrupt actions were not unnoticed by several of the company still awake, and by Thorin who watched her disappear down the slope until the top of her head disappeared into the bushes.

The last thing Mikal heard was Gandalf in her mind telling her to be careful. But perhaps she was just telling herself that.

She continued in the darkness for a few more minutes before she burst out into silent tears. Her hands trembled as she gripped the rough bark of a tree to hold herself upright. These were tears of fear.

_This was a mistake. I'm not ready._

And she certainly wasn't ready to hear those sounds again. The horror sounds of her one true enemy, her kind's manufactured rival. The race that murdered her people.

Mikal's cries were quiet, heaving in her chest and staining her cheeks. Her heart beat heavy and slow—her body forcing itself into warrior mode.

The screeches grew quieter, a sign that the pack was heading away from their camp. When Mikal opened her eyes she found her fingertips stuck about two inches into the trunk of the tree. Quickly she backed off and quietly apologized to the tree, uncertain whether it was an Ent or not.

After a few moments she worked up the courage to walk back to the camp. When she returned she caught the last bit of a tale concerning Thorin and his experiences with the Pale Orc called Azog. Mikal didn't recognize the name, but knew by the sorrow on Thorin's brow that he had caused much pain.

"And the Pale Orc? What happened to him?" Bilbo asked. Thorin stepped back through the company to his original resting place.

"He slunk back into the hole whence he came. That filth died from his wounds years ago."

Gandalf and Balin shared a meaningful look of mild sorrow, while Mikal shared the same thought. Orcs, especially alphas, don't perished quite as easy as one would hope.

The camp settled back down again and Mikal stood at the edge of the cliff, looking out to the landscape.

She suddenly grew anxious and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She couldn't see in the darkness, but she remembered the feeling, the tremble in the hand. The Orcs were close, and they knew they were here.

* * *

**I couldn't help but post another one! Please let me know what you think! I do truly love to hear the thoughts of everyone who reads!**


	5. Chapter 4

The several next days brought the rain down in buckets. Mikal had her hood over her head to keep dry but loved the change in the weather all the same. The day was quiet, she had hardly gotten any sleep the night before and could feel it in her slumped shoulders and heavy eyelids.

She didn't think they would encounter the Orcs so early on in their journey. But she supposed it was better it was sooner than be disillusioned after comfort set in later. It racked her mind through the whole day, she merely let Mayne follow the others while her mind wondered.

Gandalf would glance back at her, keeping a tab on her far off look. Thorin had noticed as well, though knew not why she was distant and quiet.

At the edge of a billowing bluff the company stopped for the night. When Mikal dismounted Mayne she nodded to Thorin.

"I'll take first watch tonight." She offered, to which the Dwarf King merely nodded.

Lamp stew, weak on the seasonings, was for dinner that evening. Mikal passed on the stew but took a slice of bread and listened to Balin tell stories of life in Erebor.

It seemed beautiful there, and safe.

For a minute Mikal wondered what that felt like; to be safe and have that ripped from beneath you. For her, it was the opposite. From the moment she was born to her two thousand and nine hundredth birthday she knew very little of safety or calm. But now she had discovered it in the Shire, in Bag-End, with her dear friend Bilbo Baggins.

Night fell slowly, and the Dwarves were out quicker than normal. She supposed it was due to full bellies.

All was very quiet, Mikal noticed, quiet and calm. She sipped on her hot tea and looked out to the land, such beautiful cascading mountains and hills.

A twig snapped. Mikal immediately pulled her knife out and peered behind.

"Careful—'tis only me." Thorin approached her slowly.

"Can't sleep?" Mikal asked, slipping the knife back at her side.

"I can never sleep." He sat next to her and looked out into the valley. "Those are quick reflexes."

"Thank you." She took a sip. "Here to check up on me then?"

Thorin glanced at her but didn't say anything. She was right. Thorin didn't trust her yet.

Mikal looked out into the wilderness, the breeze through the trees blew her hair around her face and all around. She could feel the breath of the Wild in her. Its effects were calming but on edge. Mikal feared what would happen if she let her guard down. And then she feared what would happen if she let herself go too far.

"It's nights like these that make me forget the horror of battle in these woods." Thorin said, gazing out, speaking with a tone that made Mikal question whether he meant to say it aloud at all.

"I am thankful for nights like these." She said.

"Why is that?"

"It puts things in perspective." She took a small sip of tea and continued. "Violence and war makes one approach moments of peace in a completely different light."

Thorin watched her out of the corner of his eye. After several moments of silence he spoke.

"And what do you know of war and violence?" His voice was gruff, and deep—deeper than the beating of her own heart. But Mikal looked him in the eye, her words gentle—so quiet that even she could hardly hear herself.

"More than I would like to."

* * *

Well into the next afternoon they stumbled onto the ruins of a small farm house and barn.

"We'll camp here for the night." Thorin spoke, ordering Kili and Fili to care for the ponies. Mikal dismounted Mayne quickly and looked around. The horse neighed and thumped her back with his nose.

"What is it?" Mikal questioned the horse who in turn wiggled its head and snuffed, clamping one hoof on the ground. "What do you mean you don't feel safe?" Mikal rubbed his neck and scratched his ear. She looked around, the only strange thing about this space was the ruins currently inhabited by Gandalf. The wind carried a quiet whistle but it was calm. She chalked Mayne's nervousness up to irritability and hunger.

Kili took his reins and nodded to Mikal. But Mayne quickly yanked himself out of Kili's hands and ran back to Mikal.

"Hey!" Kili ran back too but the horse ran behind Mikal and neighed. She rolled her eyes and turned to him.

"Mayne, listen to me." She grabbed his reins and pulled his head down to her level. She whispered to him in a language that was unfamiliar to Kili, but sounded slightly Elvish in dialect. Almost immediately the horse settled and let Kili approach.

"You're really good with him." Kili commented.

"He's older than he looks and more stubborn because of it. But with the promise of fresh apples he'll listen to anyone." Mikal smirked, "Just don't pull too hard on his reins or he'll pull you all the way back here."

They both laughed and Kili took Mayne gently to join the others. Mikal walked up to join Bilbo when Gandalf huffed past her.

"Everything alright?" Bilbo questioned, "Gandalf, where are you going?"

"To seek the company of the only one around here who's got any sense." He said angrily. Mikal looked into the house at a pensive Thorin.

"And who's that?" Bilbo called.

"Myself, Mister Baggins!" He grumbled, "I've had enough of Dwarves for one day."

"Come on, Bombur, we're hungry." Thorin called, a slight bit of anger in his tone, and the Dwarves got back to work setting up camp.

Mikal walked up to the house to meet Thorin. If she was honest the Dwarf king intimidated her just slightly. He was quiet and thoughtful, but she could tell he held within him a lot of anger. He had lost a lot, which she found a kindness in, but he handled the loss in ways that were peculiar to her. Vengeful ways.

"Don't come up here telling me to move on, I won't do it." Thorin said preemptively, avoiding eye contact with her.

"No, I was just going to ask what I could do to help set up camp." Thorin looked at her surprised and paused to think.

"You can help Gloin gather fire wood, he never gets enough." Mikal nodded and walked back down to the Dwarves with Thorin's eyes on her back.

Food was served as the sun went down. They were all gathered around the fire, enjoying their meals while Mikal merely poked around at the soup with her spoon. She laughed with the others as they joked and Bombur was declined as he went in for a third serving.

He sat down with a huff next to her and eyed her bowl. She smirked and handed it to him silently and he practically jumped with joy.

"You sure you want to share, lass?" He said as he shoveled the chucks of stew into his mouth, nearly half way done as he continued, "Awfully nice of ya to offer."

Mikal chuckled and nodded. She wondered what it was like to be that hungry. So hungry you couldn't swallow faster than you could chew. In honest, she didn't need that much food at all. A single meal could keep her full of energy for days if it had to. It was a survival instinct she never did seem to shake. But she did love food, good tasting food that was. And she loved to cook, which is why landing in the Shire was as serendipitous as serendipity can get. Cooking for Hobbits was like cooking for a small army, every day.

She chuckled remembering the first time Bilbo invited her over for tea, which turned into dinner, which then turned to supper—she had to be practically rolled back to her house afterward.

Thorin noticed her give her bowl up to Bombur but didn't say anything, munching slowly on his own dinner. Mikal's eyes rose to meet his across the fire and they held each other's gaze for several moments. Thorin turned his chin upward, gesturing for her to follow him.

Mikal hesitantly stood and followed Thorin to the house. His shoulders were tense as he turned back toward her.

"Is everything okay Thorin?"

"Did Gandalf tell you where he was going?"

"No, didn't so much as spare me a glance as he huffed away, which is a mild rarity. What did you say to him?" Mikal questioned, threatening the comfort level of their new acquaintance.

"Nothing he didn't already know."

Mikal narrowed her eyes at him and realized why Gandalf had so many issues connecting with Dwarves. They were just as damn stubborn as he was. If not more.

Mikal sat on a crate with a sigh and looked at Thorin until he looked at her.

"I don't know you very well, Thorin, but I do know Gandalf. And while he can be insufferably vague and abrupt at times, it is only because he knows what's best. In my experience, wizards more often than not always have the upper hand."

"And what is that exactly? Your experience?" Thorin questioned quickly, taking the chance. But Mikal recoiled and sighed, ignoring his question.

"Though it is right to question Gandalf's decisions, his wisdom should always be considered a viable option…" Thorin looked at Mikal who sat with unmoving stillness, her fingers threaded together in front of her thoughtfully.

Before Thorin could respond Kili and Fili came running back.

"It's Bilbo!" Kili yelled. Mikal immediately stood but Thorin grabbed her arm.

"Stay here." He said.

"No, I—"

"Stay here." He commanded and she stood still. "Watch the camp."

"Fine." She said through her gritted teeth.

"Thank you." Thorin ran off with the others. She waited until he was out of sight and immediately searched for her bag. Her bow and quiver was still on Mayne but she found a few daggers.

Suddenly the ponies and horses rushed by her and she immediately attempted to wrangle them together. She found Mayne in a blustering mess and couldn't understand his vague and scared movements.

"Mayne, shh—shh—calm down, what happened?" She insisted and he still twisted and neighed in her ear, bumping her shoulders with more force than she was used to. "Trouble?" He bumped her again and she nodded. "I knew it."

Mikal tied the horses to the trees and ran as quickly as she could in the direction they came. Quickly she crept upon a scene she was not expecting. Three large trolls that had the dwarves and Bilbo tied up, even some tied up over a fire. She watched Bilbo try to reason as she waited for her chance to intervene.

She sensed a presence behind her and twisted back quickly, dagger in hand. Gandalf stopped her by the wrist by just a hair, the tip of her dagger one second away from plunging into his throat.

"Careful there, little Mikal."

"Gandalf…" She sighed, but kept her hand up, "I should stab you through just for leaving. Huffing away like you did as though you were a child."

"I needed a moment to myself, to contemplate, you of all people should know what that's like."

"Yes, you leave for an evening to yourself and look what has happened."

"Yes, look at what you've done." He smirked and stepped aside. "Supposed I should go save them, don't you think?"

"Mmm." She grumbled, "I'll untie them."

They nodded in separation as Gandalf rose forward and cracked the boulder open that hid the morning sun from the troll den.

Mikal untied Thorin first then they freed the rest of them. He nodded thanks to Mikal before approaching Gandalf.

"Where did you go to, if I may ask?" Thorin asked.

"To look ahead."

"What brought you back?"

"Looking behind." Thorin nodded to Gandalf while sparing a glance to Mikal who had laughed while helping Oin stand up straight. "Nasty business. Still, they're all in one piece."

"No thanks to your burglar."

"He had the nous to play for time. None of the rest of you thought of that." Thorin nodded, knowing Gandalf was right. "And next time I'll trust you not to order the only one of this company capable of handling a threat of this kind—back at camp."

Thorin looked at him and glanced again at Mikal who was now fussing over Bilbo, wiping his cheeks with her cloak. Thorin turned back to Gandalf to speak but found the wizard gazing out into the trees.

"They must have come down from the Ettenmoors."

"Since when do Mountain Trolls venture this far South?"

"Ooh, not for an age." Gandalf replied. "Not since the darker power ruled these lands."

* * *

"Kal I'm fine."

"You are not fine, Bilbo. You were almost eaten by a troll." It was a very serious matter but Mikal struggled not to burst into a fit of giggles at his troll snot covered breeches.

"Yes, but I'm—I'm fine, really."

Mikal paused abruptly and looked her friend in the eye, she saw no signs of hesitance in his face. There was a silence between them as she smiled.

"Told you." She said.

"Told me what?"

"Told you you'd love it." Bilbo rolled his eyes.

"This was your doing wasn't it?"

"Oh, yes, these are my hired trolls—just so I could get a kick out of scaring the pants off you." Mikal laughed genuinely at the absurdity but tossed Bilbo her cloak so he could wipe himself clean.

The two friends noticed a commotion simultaneously and followed the company into a nearby cave. She wondered around and watched the Dwarves' eyes grow as big as saucers at the coins and small treasures that littered the ground of this troll cave.

Mikal was lost in thought as a sword in its sheath was thrown into her hands. She caught it quickly and looked at it.

"What does that look like to you?" Gandalf questioned. She turned the blade over in her hand and knew immediately.

"Elvish. Old." She responded, confirming for Thorin what he feared, and threw it back. She didn't much care for Elvish weaponry, as she herself was an Elvish weapon, and they never did her much good in the past anyway.

They stepped back out of the cave and were suddenly confronted by a wild looking man covered in furs and skins with bird droppings caked in his hair.

Mikal stood up straight, ready for a fight, when Gandalf started speaking to him. Radagast the Brown—a fellow wizard, which she had never met nor heard of.

While they spoke Mikal looked around the wood, absorbing its smells and its air. Beautiful, she thought. Her feet carried her a bit further off out of curiosity, her mind honestly had never felt so free. Even in her past she had been in these woods but never truly appreciated them until now.

Suddenly though, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up and she twisted around.

"Bilbo!" She ran forward just as a Warg jumped out from the trees. Mikal grabbed Bilbo's sword from his side and quickly slashed the throat. Another one jumped out from the North but Kili struck it with an arrow, and Thorin slashed it with his sword.

"Warg-scouts!" Thorin grunted.

"The pack won't be too far behind." Mikal said absentmindedly, truly hoping that Mayne was okay. She tossed the sword back to Bilbo who eyed her carefully.

"How did you do that so quickly?" He questioned while Gandalf questioned Thorin.

"I saw it coming, Bilbo." Mikal replied, as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

"We're being hunted," Gandalf said loudly and Mikal's heart dropped.

Of course…

"We cannot just sit here." Mikal said to Gandalf.

"We can't—we have no ponies, they bolted." Ori said. Mikal hoped Mayne had freed the others and they were on their ways to safety. Hopefully he would find his way back to her.

Radagast suggested that he could draw them away, the wizards in turn bickered. Mikal felt the tremor return to her hand with such a violent rage her entire arm ached and her vision went a little blurry. But just for a second. The tremor turned into anger.

How could she have been so stupid, up until now—to believe that Gandalf had not planned for her to be here?

Radagast led his sleigh of rabbits in the opposite direction while the company ran into the vast and rolling hills. Mikal was not confident he would be safe, but followed Gandalf and Thorin anyway. Gandalf watched Mikal as they snuck away in search of safety. He paused at a large boulder and waited for the dwarves to pass before he took her by the arm and looked into her eyes.

She quickly ripped her arm from his grasp. "I cannot believe you lied to me, Gandalf."

"There is no way I could have predicted this, Mikal. But it is the fate in which we've been dealt." She angrily breathed out of her nose.

"I… am not ready." She said with pure anger, stepping backward and following the company. Her heart beat in her throat and her face was hot one second and cold the next. It was welling up inside her, she could hardly contain it. And she knew she wouldn't be able to return if she let herself go.

They paused behind another boulder when an Orc astride a warg climbed atop, sniffing for them. Kili shot the warg down with his bow but the rider fell unharmed with it and started with the intention of attacking anyone in its line of vision.

At his battle cry Mikal knew this would bring the others. Thorin and Dwalin went for the Orc but struggled, it got a good punch to Thorin's jaw and at that the tremor hit her immediately.

"Mikal!" Gandalf yelled and threw her a sword in its sheath.

The next moments went at half speed in her mind, her heart beat so slowly—so deliberately, her blood thick and her energy primed. She unsheathed the sword and stepped past Thorin and Dwalin. Mikal kicked the Orc onto its back. It took one look at her and its eyes went wide.

She smirked, even after so long, with no armor or war paint, they still knew what she was. With less than a second for the Orc to react to the panic she sliced the head from its body and watched it bounce to the ground and roll to her feet.

Thorin watched her, confused as she stood up straight and looked directly at Gandalf. They all looked over to see the pack running toward them.

"Move! Run!" They all started but Mikal stood still, holding her ground.

This was it. This could be it, she knew she could take this pack out but it would be hard. She hadn't fought orcs in over two hundred years. But then again, how much different could they be?

She raised the sword up when she felt a hand on her arm pulling her. She looked over and it was Thorin.

"Mikal, come on!" He yelled, and she felt her heels dig deeper into the ground. "Now, come on! Don't be stupid!"

Her breath caught in her throat and looked between Thorin and the pack of orcs. Then she nodded. They brought up the rear of the company as they ran through the fields again. Gandalf seemed to know where they were going, or at least searching for it.

But the orcs were gaining one again. She knew she should have stayed. Mikal quickly brought her sword, ready for anything.

"Kili! Shoot them!" Thorin yelled and Kili started brandishing every arrow from his quiver.

"We're surrounded!" Fili yelled. Mikal gripped the sword tighter, just waiting.

"Hold your ground!" Thorin looked at her and nodded. The orcs were closing in.

"This way you fools!" They heard Gandalf cry from behind a rock. The others ran quickly back.

Thorin led them to the small cave while Mikal brought up the rear, slicing the legs off a warg and decapitating its rider. One warg got passed her but Thorin defended himself in time.

"Mikal! Kili!" He yelled.

Kili ran passed her and she stopped another Orc on foot. Walking backwards quickly she fought off as many Orcs as she could, hardly a second to breathe.

Inside the cave Gandalf counted off the company.

"There's only fourteen, who are we missing?" Gandalf said.

Thorin looked around, "Mikal, where's Mikal?"

Quickly, as if perfectly on queue, she slid down and landed on top of Balin.

"Oh, sorry, Balin." She said sincerely, helping him up.

"It's okay, lass." He brushed himself off.

Disoriented Mikal steadied herself as she heard distant horns bellowing out. For a second she thought they were in her mind. Then a dead Orc suddenly rolled into the cave with an arrow in its throat. Thorin removed it.

"Elves." He said, recognizing the head of the arrow. Mikal shared a glance with Gandalf before Dwalin found a path way that led out the back of the cave.

"Mikal are you alright?" Bilbo asked, resting a hand on her arm. She looked down at him momentarily and nodded. She swung the strap of the stealth around her shoulder and slid the sword back in place. She would have to find a water source soon to wash the blade of the Orc blood.

"'Course I'm fine, Bilbo. Let's hurry before they get too far ahead."

The pathway was a long and very narrow crevice in the mountain, and in the pit of her stomach Mikal feared what was at the end of it.

As of now, this adventure was no longer predictable.

* * *

_**Please do let me know what you think! I love to know if people are actually liking this story or if I'm just posting out there for ghosts and silence. I suppose either would still please me.**_


	6. Chapter 5

When the company reached the opening the sounds of gentle waterfalls filled the air. The air, which now became noticeably less dry and dusty. And then they were immediately presented with the grandest view of Rivendell Mikal had the pleasure to behold.

A small smile tugged at her lips and she looked at Bilbo who's eyes were now wider than a Dwarf's at the sight of gold.

Rivendell.

As the company made their way down the mountain Mikal couldn't help but grow nervous. The last time she had entered Rivendell she was very young and didn't remember too much of it. She wondered what they would think of her, did they know she existed? Would they be angry? Happy?

"You fear they will not welcome you, little one?" Gandalf spoke, eying Mikal's nervous glances toward the castle.

"Do they know about me? Elrond, does he know?" Mikal hesitated through her words.

"I do not know. We must simply let whatever happens, happen. I know in my heart that if they have any reaction at all, it must be positive." Gandalf's words calmed her as they approached the castle.

She looked back at Thorin who's expression could not be anymore reluctant and pensive as it was in that very moment.

An Elf approached them and spoke with Gandalf. Mikal looked around once more, absorbing the delightful scene of tranquil serenity.

A pang of pain suddenly erupted in her stomach, pangs of violent memories and deaths plagued her mind, and she immediately wanted to leave. Suddenly nothing about this place was tranquil to her anymore.

The riders from the valley appeared from behind, and Lord Elrond dismounted his horse. He greeted Gandalf and offered a spare glance to the rest of the company. Mikal quickly moved behind Thorin, bracing her hand on his back to let him know she was there. Thorin briefly glanced to the side. But Elrond took up his attention then.

Thorin approached him leaving Mikal without a shield.

"Welcome Thorin, son of Thrain."

"I do not believe we have met."

"You have your grandfather's bearing. I knew Thror when he ruled Under the Mountain." Elrond replied, sensing Thorin's discomfort.

"Indeed? He made no mention of you."

Elrond suddenly spoke in Elvish which resulted in the company growing a bit hostile. Mikal chuckled at their prejudice.

"No Thorin, he's offering you food." Gandalf filled in the translation. Elrond cast a gaze over the company again, but when he reach Mikal his eyes back-tracked. She struggled to look away from his eyes, seeing the familiar look of slight recognition in them. Though he did not immediately act on it.

"Aye, that'll do." They all agreed.

As the Elves led the company inside Mikal was suddenly paused in her step with the tall form of Lord Elrond in her path.

"Do I know you?" He said. "Your eyes are…"

Mikal held eye contact with him and knew there was no way out of it. She glanced at Thorin who watched her interact with Lord Elrond, in possible worry—but she did not understand the emotion therefore could not identify it so easily.

"Could we talk somewhere privately?" Mikal asked.

Elrond nodded gently, "Would you join me in my study?"

The space was beautiful and spacious. Lush greens and delicate detailing of wood all around. Elrond invited her to sit at the table which was set off the side at the entrance of a grand balcony. It was all too surreal for her in this moment.

"I'm assuming by this request for private meeting that we do indeed…know each other." Lord Elrond said from behind.

Mikal turned, the feeling of compliance filling her posture like it always had before. "I am not certain that you know exactly who I am. But you more then likely know what I am."

"You really do have the most familiar eyes…what you are…" He repeated, lost in her face. "What you are, not…who you are…"

"My name is Mikal. Mikal Eyre of Othriel."

"Othriel? That's…that's not possible." Elrond said through a gasp.

"It's true." A bellowing voice from the entrance of the study spoke. Gandalf stood casually, a small smirk on his face. "I can attest to her identity and if King Oropher was still alive, he would do so warmly, as well."

"If that is true then you are the last living Orion in our world. But it's simply not possible. The massacre…"

Elrond looked at Mikal once more and he suddenly realized what it was he recognized in her eyes.

"Oh...You have his eyes." Elrond said quietly, assuredly. Mikal looked down and her hands and felt herself very small. "Forgive me for not noticing before—however you are welcome here, will you wish to stay here in Rivendell? I'm sure the last several hundred years have not treated you as kindly."

"No, thank you...but I do have a home that I am very happy with indeed." Elrond nodded gently.

"And you are traveling with these Dwarves for…?"

"To help them. Will you hear them out?"

Elrond looked between her and Gandalf.

"Well upon these two recommendations, how could I not?"

As they walked out of the study Gandalf met up with Thorin as Elrond walked with Mikal, holding her arm gently as they descended the stairs. It was an odd gesture, perhaps he knew of her rank?

"It is truly such a pleasure to be in your company, Lady Mikal."

"Thank you, you can just call me Kal—they all do."

Elrond nodded, "And do they all know?"

"No, only Gandalf and the Hobbit knows a little."

Elrond nodded again, a smile suddenly falling on his face. "What a colorful life you must lead, Grand Marshal."

Mikal grew a small smile upon hearing the name, "I am no longer in the military, and my new life reflects that. I am happy with it. So just; _Kal,_ will do."

"As I'm sure you should be. You deserve nothing less."

They entered the main hall where tables of food were set out and the dwarves were happily chatting and eating around the greens and vegetables. Thorin's eyes watched as Elrond bid Mikal farewell with a deep bow to which she responded with a tight nod before she turned and joined the others at the table.

She squished herself plainly between Fili and Bilbo.

"What was that all about then, Kal?" Bilbo questioned, looking up at his friend as she bit into a sweet Brussels sprout.

With her mouth full she shrugged, "It was nothing, Bilbo." He narrowed his eyes at her, "Did you try these? They're amazing."

She shoved a small potato in his face and he ate it with much delight. Bilbo eventually let it drop and resolved to then eavesdrop on the table of Gandalf, Thorin, and Elrond.

As night hit the high table, with the addition of Balin and Bilbo, retired back to Elrond's study.

Mikal was invited but declined. She would much rather preferred to be in the company of the Dwarves than in the middle of what she knew would become a biased and heated argument in the end.

* * *

After several glasses of wine Mikal was laughing along with Kili and Fili as they joked with Dwalin and Dori. They had found the only small stash of fresh meat on the entire mountain and they were enjoying it all in plenty. Mikal munched on some crackers, her back against Kili's—they were using each other as balance to sit upright.

"You seem really comfortable here, Kal." Kili observed.

"Well, so do you all."

"That's because we've just ate and are well on our ways to being drunk off our asses." Mikal shrugged, nodding. The statement was not false. "I mean, you seem like you belong someplace like this. Not some hobbit hole in the Shire." Kili giggled to himself.

Mikal sighed, after so many glasses of wine she didn't really have the filter she usually kept up when talking about herself.

"I used to live in a place like this." She said wistfully.

"Oh really?" Intrigued, Kili sat up and shifted to face her. Mikal was only slightly irritated she had to move to the wall for support.

"Mmhmm. Long time ago. It was a big beautiful hall cut into the side of a mountain in the East—just like this. Fortified with brick, stone, and marble—it was all at once beautiful and pure deadly." She smirked, "I had a room at one of the top towers and when I was lucky enough to be there in the mornings I could watch the sun rises and sun sets from my bed. It's still the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Mmmm."

"That sounds lovely. What was it called?"

"Othriel." The word came out of her mouth before she had a second to think about it. She looked at Kili who looked at her in thought.

"Huh, never heard of it."

Internally Mikal sighed in relief. Another gulp of wine. "It doesn't exist anymore."

"Oh, I'm sorry…what happened?"

"It was burned to embers after the massacre of my people." A gasp from across the room brought her attention forward when she realized all the Dwarves were listening to her tale.

"Who burned it down?" Ori asked quietly, clutching his pint. Mikal suddenly became very aware that she might've been sharing too much information. Her culture was after all still very much a secret amongst commoners.

"Some very, very bad…things, led to the destruction of my home and my people." Mikal looked into the fire, as the dwarves once did in the home of Bilbo Baggins when telling the tale of their own home's destruction. Mikal took another gulp from her glass. "I haven't anyone left, not for years. It's funny, I wasn't even there when the castle was destroyed. Not that I owned anything of much worth, but I do miss that bed."

Bofur got up from his spot and sat down next to her. He patted her gently on the back and handed her a sprig of grapes.

"We're sorry, Kal." Kili said quietly, rubbing her other shoulder. Mikal waited for tears to come but they truly would not. Tears only came to her in fear, not in sorrow. Not ever in sadness.

They were suddenly interrupted by Thorin, Balin, and Bilbo returning.

"Everyone pack up, we're leaving." Thorin commanded, the image of Bofur and Kili comforting Mikal did not go unnoticed by him, but he had other things to worry about.

They packed up quickly and rushed out of Rivendell back onto the mountain. Bilbo paused, looking back to the Elvish haven with sad eyes. Mikal rubbed his shoulder in sincerity.

"You'll go back some day, Bilbo." She said, sharing the same gaze.

"How do you know that?"

"Because I know you. Whenever you find something you like you never let it go."

"Kind of like you." Bilbo smirked. Mikal chuckled out loud.

"Yeah, just like that."

"Master Baggins, I suggest you keep up." Thorin called from above. Bilbo turned reluctantly and walked up the mountain. Mikal turned back to Rivendell, giving the view just one last glance.

"Miss Mikal…" She heard from behind and turned to see Thorin approaching her.

"Yes?" She said. The angle of the path they were on gave Thorin an extra couple of inches on her, causing her to actually look up at him. The sun was rising just beyond the mountain and it cast a soft golden glow on the entire mountain side. The golden rays silhouetted the Dwarf King and Mikal suddenly felt herself a bit lost for words.

"Are you listening to a word I'm saying?"

_And lost for ears too apparently. _

"I'm—I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"When you spoke to Lord Elrond, what did he say to you?" Thorin repeated and Mikal just shook her head.

"It was nothing. He just—he thought he recognized me from somewhere." Mikal took a few steps forward to pass him but he took ahold of her arm and pulled her back.

"You are a bad liar, Miss Mikal."

She was beginning to grow tired of her arm being grabbed to garner her attention.

"Then let it be a lie in your eyes." Mikal slipped from his grip easily and started walking. Thorin followed her.

"You think me a fool?" He called to her. The company was quite far up, out of earshot.

"No, of course I do not, Thorin. If anything you may perhaps be far too smart." She turned and smiled at him softly.

"Then why will you not tell me the truth?"

"The truth about what?"

"Who you are."

Mikal sighed and looked back at him, careful not to trip on anything. "I haven't lied about who I am…"

"That may be true but the fact remains that you simply refuse to talk about it." Mikal hopped over a large log and turned to make sure Thorin didn't need help. He didn't. They were now a good distance from the rest of the troupe, their conversation had slowed them down considerably.

"Do you think that maybe I am a very private person? I prefer to keep to myself, I mean no disrespect by it."

Thorin was silent for several moments. So silent she turned back around. Thorin had stopped at the log, leaning against it in a moment of rest.

"Thorin?" She approached him, "Are you okay?" When she discovered he didn't look harmed or injured in any way, Mikal grew even more confused.

He sighed and looked out to the rising sun. Slowly Mikal stood in front of him, trying to capture his gaze.

"There's a long journey ahead of us." He said, looking passed her as though she was not there. But she nodded either way.

"Then we better get going, don't you think?" He looked at her then and they held eye contact for several moments.

"You dropped everything to join us on this journey. Why?" Mikal shrugged and leaned against the log next to him.

"The truth?" Thorin nodded, "I felt something, listening to you speak about family and purpose—about guilt and right. Doing what is right by your people…I don't really have anyone of my own, no family to speak of—I've never really felt that before…that kind of, pure and honest purpose…and I thought 'what good am I going to do sitting at home twiddling my thumbs when I could do a little bit of good for once?' So here I am. I also think Bilbo needed that extra push to get out of the damn Shire, I was happy to be that for him as well." Mikal looked at him and smiled softly, albeit a tad self-consciously. "So, short answer; I dropped everything in my life to join a ragtag gang of thirteen Dwarves, a Hobbit, and a Wizard because of you, Thorin."

Thorin's eyes never left hers as she spoke, and intimidated by him she was no longer.

"Thank you." He said quietly after a short while.

"You're welcome." She said softly, but with finality. "Now come on, the rest of the company are probably a mile ahead of us by now." She offered her hand out to help him off the log.

"Not with Balin leading, I know that for certain." Mikal smiled at his joke and they started again. Sure enough the two caught up with the rest shortly and continued their journey in boundless stride.

* * *

**To the few reading this story thank you so much! I truly hope you enjoyed this one! Let me know what you think!**


	7. Chapter 6

At the base of the mountain, as the sun was setting, the company decided to set up for camp and dinner. Mikal stretched her legs, popping her back and her shoulders. At the pop of the left shoulder she clinched her teeth.

Her left arm was her trouble arm. The one Gandalf was always concerned about. The one that kept getting grabbed.

Some days were good, some were bad. It seemed as though today might be one of those bad days. It ached and burned at the joint of the shoulder and the arm. Rubbing it made no difference.

The pain made her a bit queazy so she decided to pass on dinner.

That evening as the company settled down for sleep, Mikal tossed and turned on her cloak. She still couldn't shake the ache.

Sighing she sat up and looked around. Everyone was fast asleep aside from Thorin who was on first watch for the night. He had his back to her and everyone else, shoulders taught and hand perched on the hilt of his sword like always.

Slowly Mikal sat up, her bones creaked as she dug into her bag for two tea bags. At the tiny fire she placed a kettle on the flame. After a few minutes the water heated up just enough to steep the tea. She split it up into two mugs then swung her cloak over her shoulders and walked over to Thorin.

She made her footsteps a bit loud so she wouldn't sneak up on him. Slowly she sat next to him and handed him a cup.

"What is this?"

"Tea. With mint." Mikal said as she sipped quietly. Out of the corner of her eye she watched him take a sip, then after a moment he took another. She smiled gently to herself.

"Why are you still awake?" Thorin asked, setting the cup to the side to cool. Mikal sighed softly.

"Can't sleep. I haven't slept for days really." She rubbed her hands over her eyes in tire.

"You don't act like you haven't slept in days." Thorin observed. "Most humans need at least of couple hours a night to be functional."

Mikal was too tired to roll her eyes, but not too tired to play along. If she wasn't going to sleep she might as well keep herself awake and entertained.

"What makes you think I'm human?" She mused. Thorin took a sip of tea.

"Have you not looked in a mirror?" He responded, then another sip.

"Clearly you have not seen me naked."

Thorin sputtered his tea and Mikal laughed in jest. The chance was far too good not to take, though Thorin now looked at her like she was a little child in trouble.

"I'm sorry, that was a joke. But you're wrong, I'm not human." She responded honestly to which Thorin grunted.

"Then what are you?"

Mikal tsk'd and took a slow sip of her tea. Thorin spoke with a tone that seemed as though he didn't care, but she knew that he did—she knew it annoyed him that he didn't know anything about her.

"What…what do you think I am?" Thorin was silent, unsure if he would play the game or not. "Come on, you must have some crazy theories by now."

"I do have one. And it's not much of a theory, more of an…intuition."

"Go on."

"And my intuition is telling me something that my common sense knows cannot possibly be true." Mikal swallowed gently but urged him to continue. He was silent.

"Well I will tell you one thing I'm not and that is a mind reader."

Thorin smirked softly and took another sip of tea. He started, "There's something about you that's not quite Elvish, but you…walk much like you're floating, you're light and quick on your feet, you have long, thick hair and perfect skin…" She felt his eyes on her, "But you fight with your hands and you can talk to horses, things that Elves do not do. You live in a hobbit hole by yourself and you have no family."

Mikal sighed aloud and clutched her shoulder, it ached more than ever. It was very frustrating albeit curious how observant Thorin actually was. Could he have guessed her heritage on pure conjecture alone?

He continued, "You knew when that warg-scout was about to attack before anyone saw it and you killed it just as quickly. Lord Elrond recognized you but didn't know who you were. You are old friends with Gandalf."

"So what then, Mister Oakenshield? Have you come to a conclusion?"

"It's impossible, but it is also the only thing that makes sense." Thorin paused until Mikal looked up at him. "Orion."

Mikal closed her eyes and tilted her head back down. She breathed out slowly and while she had anticipated the reveal to be a lot more dramatic than it was, she felt relieved. Someone else knew what she was, it was almost as if a burden had been lifted from her back.

"I'm wrong, aren't I? I knew it was absurd." Thorin said with a sigh after a long moment.

For a split second Mikal thought about telling him _'Yes, you are wrong.'_ But what would she say then?

"No, no…you know, Thorin you may truly be too smart for your own good." She laughed gently to herself, fingering the rim of her mug.

"You're…you really are an Orion?" She nodded her head softly and looked back at him.

"The very last one." Thorin looked at her intently, buzzing thoughts going through his mind rapidly. "You must have questions."

"Only if you're willing to answer them."

Mikal thought for several moments before nodding her head. She liked that he was kind enough to consider her before he bombarded her with questions.

"Is it true you're made from the finest stars in the sky?" Mikal felt her cheeks go rosy and shrugged.

"That is what I am told. Forged in the image of the most ruthless—the most merciless Elf in all the Realms. Lord Elrond even said I have his eyes, which is…disheartening at best."

"Can I ask you…what happened?"

Mikal nodded, "You told me of the destruction of Erebor, so I think it is only fair. We were sent out in groups of twenty. There were not very many of us at the time so we had to be careful in our numbers. We were on our way home from Gondor when we decided to rest for the evening—which we rarely did. But it had been a particularly hard battle and we were all exhausted.

"I had fallen asleep quickly and the next thing I remember was a scream echoing in the valley of our troupe leader, and his head being chopped off. The orcs had quickly come to realize that it was very difficult to kill us, but they discovered if you remove the head…well, that worked pretty well. We were ambushed, massacred in the middle of the night because they knew they couldn't beat us when we were awake. And we were still able to kill half of them before they got the better of us."

"How did you survive?"

"I didn't run, if that's what you think. I was ganged up on by two very large orcs, one had me by the arm and ripped it clean off at the shoulder. The other beat me so badly I couldn't see or hear anything. I passed out eventually. They assumed I would just bleed out—die from my injuries. But we weren't designed that way. I woke up the next morning in the Woodland Realm with Gandalf the Grey at one side and King Oropher at my other. They fixed my arm, nursed me back to health, and swiftly discharged me of all Orion duties from then until the end of time."

"They forced you out."

"It wasn't like I wanted to go back in immediately. It was…It was horrifying and hard to forget screams like that. I was happy to be free of it." Mikal paused and looked at Thorin, he had let his tea go cold in his hands listening to her story. "I was manufactured for war and death, and a monger of fear. Would you want to be that for the rest of your life?"

"No, I can't say I would. It seems like a burden I wouldn't want to bare if I had the awareness." Mikal nodded in agreement.

"I have a question of my own for you." Thorin nodded for her to continue. "Are you not afraid of me now?"

He narrowed his eyes at her as she fiddled with her fingers in mild nervousness. He asked, "Why would I be afraid of you?"

"As younglings, we were told that we could never live a normal life because we would be feared. I bring death where ever I go and violence over comes me until I am no longer in control of my own actions. Who knows what might happen with so much time apart from it."

"What do you mean?"

"It's like there is something else entirely inside my soul that awakens during battle. Another warrior in me, and it was only after the massacre that I realized I was actually somebody else. Someone with feelings and passions, free-will. Had I known I would have left the Orion years and years ago."

"When you fought the Orcs and those warg-scouts earlier, did that same thing happen?"

Mikal nodded, "Not fully, you would—you would know if that had happened. I probably wouldn't come back. I feel ashamed of it most days."

"Is that why you secluded yourself away in the Shire?"

She shrugged, "It is one of the reasons. I feel displaced, but I'm trying. A quiet life with no violence, or worry. But it's hard when nobody really knows who you are, and the one person that does tries to use you for his own selfish gain."

"Gandalf, you mean?"

"He said he hadn't planned on including me in this journey, but I'd say you've had more than an average amount of Orc encounters, wouldn't you say?"

"Aye." Thorin nodded, "Do you think perhaps the events of this journey so far happened by chance and he was telling the truth?"

"With as long as I've known that wizard, I can say with full confidence I truly have no idea."

"How old are you?" Thorin asked suddenly.

"How old do you think I am?" Mikal struggled to hide a smirk.

"You hardly look a day over thirty but I know that's a far cry from the real number."

Mikal conceded, "I'm just over three thousand."

Thorin paused, trying to work out the age in her eyes. "That's a long time to be alive." He said.

"Indeed. A long time to live. Too long."

"Too long?"

"Sometimes it doesn't seem right that someone like me can live for so long while someone like you—your life will be over in a fraction of that time. I could only imagine what you could do with a thousand years, let alone three."

Thorin was silent for several moments, watching Mikal's facial expressions change from hopeful to sorrowful in a few short minutes.

"I think you're very brave, Mikal." She turned to look at him slowly with her brow creased.

"What?"

"You act like you should not have the gift of life, but you were handed one of the worst lives of all. To be bred for war and death should never be anyone's fate, yet you survived it—you grew from it, and now you use it to your advantage. I don't know how many of us would be here had you not come along, for you to agree to it—knowing that it was dangerous and you hardly knew us…well, I think that's incredibly brave and I thank you." Thorin paused in worry after his words at Mikal who quickly turned her head away to hide her tears.

No one had ever said things like that to her, never thanked her for anything. Thorin rested his hand on her shoulder and she brought her tear stained cheeks back up, wiping them.

"I'm sorry, I'm just…I'm not used to be on the receiving end of words like that. Forgive me." Mikal struggled to hold her tears in but they still fell. Suddenly she felt Thorin slide down to her level and wrap a hand around her shoulder.

"If it means anything, I haven't either. Earlier today on the mountain when you spoke of my words inspiring purpose in you—I hadn't really felt the impact of that statement until just now. We are lucky to have you with us, Mikal."

She smiled and leaned into his touch mostly for the warmth.

"You can call me Kal, you know. Gandalf is the only one that calls me by my full name"

"Alright then." He tested the name out on his lips and nodded his head. "Kal."

Mikal smiled. They were quiet for a minute before Thorin spoke up again.

"Why does Gandalf call you 'little one'? 'Little Mikal'?"

Mikal smirked, "Because I was, in all senses of the word, the runt of the litter. I don't love to be reminded of it so often, as I was continually back then. The Orion were ruthless bullies sometimes. But it's grown into more of a fond nickname than anything."

"You were the runt?" Thorin smirked.

"Thorin we're the same height and you're a Dwarf." Mikal laughed softly.

"I've seen you slay ten Orcs atop ten wargs with incredible skill. If a runt is what you are then I'd love to see a full grown Orion."

"Well, I'm all you've got so you'll have to use your imagination."

They laughed together—and laughed into the late evening.

When Fili awoke to relieve Thorin of his watch duties he was presented with the curious scene of Thorin, sipping cold tea—eyes peering out into the wood with Mikal sleeping quietly next to him. Her upper body propped up, with her head resting on the log which Thorin sat upon.


	8. Chapter 7

The next morning Mikal woke slowly. The Dwarves were bustling about putting out the fire and packing things up. Her bones ached as she stretched but her arm no longer hurt.

"Sleep well, Kal?" Bilbo asked and she nodded, yawning.

"First full night's sleep since we left." Mikal slipped her cloak around her shoulders and tied it at the base of her neck. A breeze fluttered through the trees and sent a chill down Mikal's spine.

As the troupe started their trek once again Mikal felt very odd. Each step she took she could feel the Earth beneath her, the wind felt like it was enveloping her in soft kisses, and the deep thumping in her chest was thick and palpable. The Orion were trained to sense the heart beats of other beings—though Mikal was hardly any good at it. She struggled for years to get the skill down, to figure out some secret to it—but she never did.

However, in this moment, traveling with this gang of brutish and erratic Dwarves Mikal felt the growing, and dull heartbeat sense develop with complete precision. It was coming back to her, being out here. And for a moment she worried what else might come out.

But Mikal had no business worrying about something so trivial. At this time, this point in the journey, she could do nothing but improve upon these skills she once had. If only with the hope they wouldn't take her over.

Focusing, Mikal breathed in and out she could feel everything. If she looked at Thorin, leading the group several paces from her, she could feel his heart beating in her ears.

She turned back to see Bilbo and Balin coming up around some trees—pulling up the rear. And when she focused on them both of their hearts beat heavy and fast, struggling to keep up the energy.

Turning back to the front she smiled to herself. How…serendipitous.

Mikal looked up to Thorin who was walking with more purpose than she'd seen him walk. Heavy steps with wide strides. She focused on his heart once more and sensed it erratic and nearly palpitating.

As subtly as possible, Mikal quickened her pace to just behind the king, who's heart beat was still bizarre and unsteady. Though when he noticed she was just behind him, his heart slowed and small smile fell on his lips—but she could have been mistaken.

"How much further do you think?" She asked, gently.

"All in all nearly a weeks walk if we stop as little as possible."

"I'd imagine if we had our ponies we could cut that time nearly in half."

"Aye." Thorin nodded.

"I hope the Orcs didn't get to them." Mikal said, looking off through the valley.

"I'm sure they are fine, Kal. You needn't worry about such things." Thorin said, and in the simplest way possible comforted her in his confidence.

"I only worry when I have a reason. I'm still surprised Mayne hasn't shown up yet. He usually finds me after a day or two."

"Has he been with you long?"

Mikal nodded, "Little over five years now. But he's a special one. Very funny."

Thorin glanced at her for a moment, "That ability of yours, did the rest of the Orion share it?"

"Some of us, yes. Those of us that really tried to share the connection with our horses were usually successful. The bond is a priceless strength in battle."

"I can imagine. Can you speak to anything else?"

Mikal glanced at him for a moment, curious as to Thorin's curiosity. He seemed very welcoming of her conversation, despite his relentless pace and otherwise anti-social tendencies.

"I've not really tried to speak to anything else actually." Mikal gently laughed to herself, and at herself—how had she not thought of it before? "I can understand other things though, non-animal like. Feel them, in the earth."

"Like storms and such?"

She nodded, "Tremors in the soil, shutters of a mountain, beats of a heart, the bite of a wind—they all say different things."

"Can you sense anything right now?"

She shook her head, "No. Nothing at the moment."

"Good."

"I can't say I have complete accuracy though, I may be completely wrong."

"Don't sell yourself short…" Thorin cleared his throat, "But if you are wrong, you ought to stay up here as first line of defense in the off chance we cross by any potential danger."

Mikal nodded, hiding a smile. "I am up here, am I not?"

Thorin looked at her once again and nodded after a moment of uncertainty. She knew her kind was blunt and quite literal, though living with Hobbits for some years was changing that. Mikal felt the subtle sarcasm sit with her bluntness nicely, as Bilbo put it—a little bit of joke never hurt anyone.

She appreciated Thorin for his forthright approach, but damn if his smirks didn't make him look like a completely different Dwarf. And at this point, she didn't know why this Dwarf fascinated her so.

Perhaps it was because he knew her secret, but perhaps it was because he was clearly not afraid of her—which she herself feared would be the case.

For now, that is what she settled on. She was happy that someone knew who she was and didn't care outside of being curious of her abilities. Like finding a fascinating bug you'd never seen before.

They settled that night once again, like they had done many nights before, deep in the woods. Mikal had offered herself for first watch before anyone could take the chance. It was a nice evening, with kinder weather, and she was happy to be awake during it.

As the sun set Mikal sat off from camp by herself. She wasn't purposefully being antisocial, but she knew when she needed time to herself. With this new found ability to sense the beats of hearts she was overwhelmed and needed a bit of silence to focus.

The skill would be helpful in the future, however she worried what other skills would encroach upon her while she was out here. Mikal had settled in safely in the Shire because she didn't want to be a part of this world anymore. This…this war driven, violent and bloody world. She'd enough of it—but now her body—her purpose, this animalistic nature of her kind was coming out with full strength.

Mikal feared she might lose herself for the worse, again.

Footsteps appeared behind her, and they got louder as someone approached her from behind. Before she could turn a bowl of noodles and broth was all but thrust into her face. She looked up to see Thorin.

"You must be hungry." He said, looking at her small form resting atop the fallen log.

"I'm alright, thank you though, Thorin."

"Eat." He said, the sternness of a King coming out in his cadence. "You're far too skinny."

Reluctantly she took the bowl with a nod. Thorin turned back and joined the rest of the camp around the fire. She watched him pour a bowl for himself and sit down next to Bilbo.

Mikal blinked at the simple action. Thorin made the conscious decision to feed her first, before himself. Her eyes narrowed back down at the steaming bowl of broth and realized she was actually quite hungry.

She sipped on the broth at the rim of the bowl as she turned back around to the darkness of the wood. Thorin glanced back at her, satisfied she was eating.

"You know, Kal doesn't usually take to people so easily." Bilbo said after observing the whole interaction.

"What do you mean?" Thorin grunted, obviously a bit annoyed by Bilbo's proverbial eavesdropping.

"She never listens to anyone. As long as I've known her. She trusts very few." Bilbo said, slurping up a noodle.

"I suppose you are one of the few, Master Baggins?"

Bilbo shrugged, "I'd hoped one day she'd trust me enough to tell me about her past."

"So you do not know anything about her?"

"No, only bits and pieces that she's let slip. I know she was a warrior in the past and I'd imagine she's quite old. But other than that she's very private."

Thorin considered this for several long and silent moments.

"And you trust her, despite her reluctance to be open in your friendship?"

Bilbo looked at the dwarf like he was a bit dumb, which Thorin didn't much appreciate.

"Of course I do. She was my condition in joining the company, after all. I wouldn't come without her, because I know in the end she'll get us back home." Thorin nodded at Bilbo's words and returned to his bowl. "My point is, though, she trusts you for whatever reason. You should trust her."

Thorin looked back at Bilbo with narrowed eyes. How had the Hobbit known what was going on in his head?

* * *

Mikal hummed to herself softly, picking at the dirt beneath her fingernails. The company was fast asleep, small snores could be heard in subtle sprinkles, and the crackle of the dwindling fire. She looked up into sky and smiled softly.

She would never tire of the stars for as long as she lived. They sat up in the sky offering beautiful visages of twinkling light, whilst asking for nothing in return.

When she was lying on the ground, the night of the massacre seven hundred years ago, bloody and in more pain than she'd ever experienced—all she could see was the stars. They brought about a certain comfort in that moment, the silence of the stars quieted and calmed her breathing.

She couldn't hear the screams of pain or the disgusting snarls and war cries from the orcs. Just peace.

Mikal thought she was going to die that night. She had never been so close to death before then, and didn't know what it was supposed to feel like. And in a way she did die on the ground that night, her arm ripped from her shoulder—the cold fever rippling through her body and the harrowing urge to give up. It was that night, the last night, she ever considered herself a warrior.

But no use pondering on it now, she thought.

She sighed then, out into the silence of the late evening and looked back to her hands. With another sigh she looked around the camp. Her eyes landed on Thorin who rested propped up against a tree not far from where she sat. His breath was shallow and his hand rested on the hilt of his sword.

Always ready for battle. Much like she was feeling lately.

Thorin stirred for a moment in his sleep, as though he could sense her eyes on him. Mikal still watched him, a small smile falling upon her face.

She wondered what Dwarves dreamt of. Gold, maybe? Power and safety? More probable.

Another hour passed before she awoke Dwalin to cover the second watch until morning.

"Hardly a peep out there." She said quietly, hoping not to wake anyone else.

"Good. Should be a relaxing night then." He replied and she nodded with slight hesitation.

"I wouldn't get too comfortable. Things can change in an instant if you aren't too careful."

Dwalin nodded in agreement. "Aye. Never a true moment of calm these days."

Mikal smirked, "No truer statement could be said."

She settled herself closer to the fire next to Bilbo and took comfort in the warmth. She quickly drifted off.

After three hours of sleep Mikal bolted awake, brandishing her knife in a sudden panic. Balin and Oin were quietly setting up breakfast and simultaneously jumped at her abrupt action.

After she was confident there was no danger she slipped her knife back into it sheath at her side and nodded quietly to the two still startled dwarves. Mikal stood quickly.

"I'm going for a quick walk." She said quietly to which Balin nodded. The sun was slowly rising.

"Be careful, m'lady."

Mikal nodded and gently patted her knife, indicating she had no intentions otherwise.

As she left the faint bustle of camp her body visibly relaxed and she unclenched her teeth. Her dream still vivid in the back of her mind.

It was odd, to dream. She did it very rarely, and when she did they were usually nightmares—memories. Her mind, when free from conscious repression always went to those dark and violent places. However last night's dream proved the exact opposite.

Mikal herself felt silly for it, even a bit embarrassed. She'd dreamt of Thorin and her talking, but closely—intimately. She remembered the smile on his face, that matched her own—the look in his eyes that gave her a shutter in her knees. Thorin bore eyes bluer than indigo, like the sky in the Shire.

Blue eyes were not uncommon here, even amongst her kind. But for some reason she dreamt of his in particular—looking at her with an expression she'd never seen before, and couldn't interpret.

This feeling she felt, in this dream that birthed feelings, feelings that transcended to her real self—was indescribable. She admired Thorin for sure, but it felt different than admiration.

Mikal sighed and paused her steps at the edge of a babbling stream. She followed the path to see it led to the edge of a small cliff, the stream cascading down the rocks to a larger pond with crystal clear water.

A small smile fell upon Mikal as she watched the calming stream drip down the rocks. She sat herself at the edge of the cliff on soft, bright green moss and dangled her feet over the edge. The sun had now risen and the sky was rippled with yellows and pinks and oranges.

Mikal felt oddly calm, the faint memory of her dream nestled in the back of her mind. She didn't know what the feeling was but it was comforting and it made her happy. Perhaps that's why she awoke with such a start—she had never quite felt that before. Comfort and happiness in such trying circumstances.

She was suspicious of her feelings.

The image of Thorin in her dream, talking with her and gently touching her hands, filled her stomach.

A few birds tweeted overhead and she looked up at a small nest in the trees.

Then an idea filtered into her head; a distraction. Smiling she slipped her boots and socks from her feet, then her cloak, undercoat, and middle layer until she wore just a small tunic and her undergarments. Securing her knife in its sheath tightly in her hands—just in case, she took a few steps back and ran to the edge of the cliff and jumped off.

When she resurfaced she let out a delighted laugh and shiver. The water was freezing but also freeing. She swam around for a few minutes, taking in the beautiful view around her.

Luxuriating in the sensation of water.

Suddenly things made a lot more sense in this moment, bobbing in the water with closed eyes. The sounds of trickling water and tweeting birds calming her senses.

She scrubbed her hair with some seaweed she found at the bottom of the pond and relished in the natural scent of it. It had been quite a while since she had been clean. Though it wasn't always a necessity for her on the road, she did enjoy the feeling.

After another few minutes of bobbing in the water she decided it was time to return to camp, refreshed and relaxed. The climb back up the small cliff was simple and she jumped up over the edge, quickly grabbing her cloak to dry off. She dressed quickly and slipped her knife back to her waist.

Mikal took another look around at the small oasis she'd found and calmed, her eyes closing gently.

Suddenly she heard footsteps behind her and a heartbeat. She reached for her knife at her side and threw it toward the assailant with a quick twist of the hip. The knife landed deep in the trunk of a tree, just mere inches from Thorin's face. He looked at the knife then at her with a mixed emotion.

Thorin plucked the knife from the bark and walked toward her, now with hesitation.

"I came to retrieve you, we're about to head off." Mikal nodded and took the knife. The second her hand touched Thorin's, his heartbeat was heavy and fast in her ears. "Slack shot."

Mikal secured the knife back at her side, "Not for a warning, it wasn't."

"What are you doing out here?"

Mikal sighed, "I was trying to clear my head."

"Did it work?" Thorin asked as they started back to camp side by side.

Mikal looked at him for a moment before turning her gaze to her feet. "For a little bit, yes."

_Until you arrived,_ she thought.

Thorin nodded and was silent. Mikal felt anxiety growing in her chest and knew then it was the proximity in which the Dwarf King was to her. What was this?

"Did you sleep well?" He asked.

"Yes. Well—no." Mikal thought on it, "Strange dreams."

Thorin looked at her peculiarly but said nothing as they continued to walk. When they reached camp Mikal found the company all packed up, nearly ready to go. Bilbo tossed her pack to her and she nodded in thanks.

They were off again. This day though, Mikal decided to keep her distance from Thorin—his heartbeat was nearly deafening to her ears.

* * *

_**Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and favorited! Hope you enjoyed this chapter! As always let me know what you think!**_


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